


Metamorphmagus

by CrazyPrepared (writerofberk)



Series: Like a Charm [3]
Category: Trolls (2016)
Genre: Branch is?????? pining?????? so much?????, F/M, Hogwarts AU, Poppy is a Metamorphmagus because I said so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 02:34:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17194868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writerofberk/pseuds/CrazyPrepared
Summary: "Hey, Branch!" Poppy's goofy smile widened, and she twirled a strand of hair around her finger. Bright, blazing, bubblegum pink hair. "Notice anything?"





	Metamorphmagus

Poppy's hair was  _pink._

_No._   _No way._  Branch looked again. Just to make sure he wasn't wrong.

No. Nope. No such luck. She was still pink.  _Completely_  pink, too—not a little highlight here or a few strands there—all over her head—a bright, blazing, bubblegum pink, a magnificent clash against her scarlet school robes, the vivid tresses bouncing around her grinning, freckled face—she was practically  _glowing_ against the plain brown-and-white of the overcrowded Charms classroom, drawing every eye effortlessly as she all but glided down the row of desks, straight to the back, with her chin up and her shoulders back and her—her  _smile_ , God,  _her fucking smile_ , and  _I can change everything else, why can't I change my smile, what's even the point of being a Metamorphagus if I can't get rid of these stupid teeth,_  and why the  _fuck_  would she want to change—anything, why would she want to change anything—those teeth, those adorable teeth, and the lift in her round, flushed cheeks, and the glistening smear of scented strawberry gloss on her lips and the way if her grin got big enough, her eyes started to crinkle up at the corners until they were tiny half-moons above her button nose, and oh, God, her  _dimples_ , just kill him now—

She came to the end of the row and she plopped down in the seat right next to his and  _her elbow_  was touching  _his elbow_  and that should not have felt half so intimate as it did, and he swallowed, and when he did, he could feel his heart lodged right there in the back of his throat like it just  _grew there_  and—

"Hey, Branch!" Her goofy smile widened, and she twirled a bubblegum strand of hair around her finger, and the color-changing polish Satin and Chenille talked her into trying out on her nails caught the light and glimmered. "Notice anything?"

Okay, no. _That was not fucking fair._ That was just—that was just not fucking fair, it wasn't fucking fair that she could do that to him without  _knowing_  she was doing it to him and it wasn't fucking fair andhis breath caught in his throat and how the  _fuck_  was he even supposed to say _anything—_?

"Branch?"

"N-no!" Stupid, stupid, that was—that was stupid, he just—he just blurted it out, and oh, God, he stuttered, didn't he—actually stuttered, God, could this get any worse—

"Aww, come _on_!" Poppy gave her hair an exaggerated shake—the pink fell in waves, in ripples, shining on her shoulders, running down her back like a rippling waterfall.  _"Nothing?"_

If she'd told him to, he thought he might really have handed his wand over to her, no hesitation, right that fucking minute. He jolted a little in his seat at the thought, fingers clenched tight around the thin wooden strip, the handle slightly damp from the sweat on his palms. His nervous, bouncing knee brushed hers under the desk, and she didn't move away and he thought he might actually fucking explode if she got any closer what if she did what if she did what if she  _did_ get closer closer closer closer so close so close so close enough for him to kiss her—

"Your Metamorphasing," he said, sharply, because  _no,_  Professor Guffin was gonna be there any minute, and  _he could not let himself think about kissing Poppy in the middle of the goddamn Charms classroom_ , "isn't for tricks, Poppy. It's not something to play with. Would it _kill_  you to take it more _seriously_?"

"Hey!" Poppy sat up a little straighter in her seat, eyes flashing. "I  _do_  take it seriously!"

Branch raised his eyebrows.

"I take it the  _seriously-est_!"

Oh, fuck. She was fucking  _adorable_. He bit down, hard, on his bottom lip, to make sure he wouldn't smile. "I'll keep that in mind, Ms. Pig-Snout-in-Herbology-last-week."

"O-okay," Poppy threw up a defensive hand, "there's such a thing as  _too serious_ , I'll have you know."

"Mm." He was not going to smile. He was not going to smile. That would just be encouraging her shit. He pulled open his Charms textbook—at least this way he wouldn't have tolook at her—oh, fuck it—at least this way, he wouldn't have to remind himself to  _stop looking_  at her. Maybe he could blame her hair—

"H-hey, Branch?"

There was a decidedly not-Poppy note of uncertainty in her voice, a hitch, a stammer, a waver, and he lifted his head to look at her.

"Do you—?" She bit her lip, and twirled her hair around her finger again. "Do you think—?" A blush bloomed across her cheeks until her face was almost as pink as her hair, until every freckle stood out stark against the flush. What he wouldn't give to kiss them, all of them, press his lips to every tiny little spot until he could make constellations out of them, and maybe if he did, she'd see the stars on her skin and know she was  _beautiful_ —

"Do you think Creek will like it?"

"What?"

"Creek," she repeated at once, but she didn't seem to want to look at him anymore. "Do you—do you think—?"

_Do you think Creek will like it?_

The words burned their way down inside Branch like an open flame, searing and scorching and just under his skin, his stomach writhing and twisting like a nest of coiling, hissing snakes.  _Creek._  Right. Yeah. Creek. The guy Poppy actually  _wanted_  to kiss her.

_How could I fucking forget._

"I don't know, Poppy," he didn't say it so much as he snarled it, like he was some kind of animal they'd study in their next Care of Magical Creatures lesson, "I'll talk to him about it right after we get finished braiding each other's hair and making friendship bracelets."

"Really?" She stared at him, wide-eyed.

"Don't you know anything about sarcasm?!"

He ripped open the Charms textbook again, and buried himself resolutely in the ink and parchment, because words made so, so much more sense than the fire burning its slow, agonizing way through his bones.

Poppy huffed. "You don't have to like my hair," she grumbled, half under her breath, "to be  _supportive_."

And, oh, God, that was the _problem_ , wasn't it, that was the fucking problem—he liked her hair, he liked her smile, he liked her everything, and he liked it all way,  _way_  more than he ever should have.

**Author's Note:**

> So this one plays with the timeline a bit - in Quidditch, which I specifically stated was second or third year, at most, Branch mentions Poppy's pink hair in passing, kind of as a matter of course, which suggests she's had it before, but this one, set in fifth year, describes it like Branch has never seen Poppy with pink hair before. Poppy's pink hair is just? going to jump around i guess sgfrgfb don't put any stock in the timeline of these things honestly please don't.
> 
> Anyway, I imagine fifth-year Poppy as still kind of figuring herself out a bit, which I had fun writing! Insecure Poppy isn't a concept explored enough for my taste - understandable, of course, because she's so unshakably confident in canon. Anyway! I hope you guys like this next installment. Honestly where is this series going. What is even my life.


End file.
